


holiday kink fic fills

by brites



Category: Free!, Haikyuu!!, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball, Mystic Messenger (Video Game), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drunkenness, Emetophilia, Multi, Sickfic, Stuffing, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8988025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brites/pseuds/brites
Summary: A series of short kink fic fills posted to my Tumblr, featuring mostly stuffing and sickfics!





	1. burping/liquid bloat -- hinata shouyou

Curled in on himself with his arms wrapped around his middle, it’s clear just how much Hinata is not enjoying Karasuno’s Christmas party.

Tsukishima isn’t delighted to be here either, but at least _he_ has a valid reason for it – he’d much rather be at home, spending the day before Christmas Eve with his family, but his mother is driving all the way up to Akiteru’s college just to drive him all the way back. With his family otherwise occupied, Yamaguchi had dragged Tsukishima to the party.

Being around the team isn’t a bad thing, exactly – it’s just exhausting.

“Ughh… I don’t really – _brruuUULP_!”  


Case in point.

“That’s disgusting,” Tsukishima remarks, taking a large step away from Hinata’s bench. “Don’t they teach you manners at Santa’s workshop, elf?”  


Hinata lets out an offended squawk that morphs into another belch. Rolling his eyes, Tsukishima turns away to accept another cup of eggnog from where Sugawara is passing it out. He will admit that the food is good, but the eggnog especially – Shimizu made it herself. It’s just the right combination of sweet and spicy, warm enough to leave his insides heated pleasantly.

“Ooh, Suga-san, can I – _huULP_ – have some more? _Please?”_ Hinata leans forward on his knees, despite obviously clutching his full stomach. His face is hopeful, even as Sugawara shakes his head.  


“Hinata, I think you’ve had enough. Shouldn’t you wait a few minutes?”  


Hinata’s face falls. He looks so devastated that the unprepared Sugawara only has the resolve to hold out for a few seconds before he’s sighing and passing another cup full of steaming drink over.

Hinata seizes on it eagerly and begins to down it. He pulls away only for a second, to press the back of his hand to his lips and muffle a wet burp. Tsukishima rolls his eyes again, wondering whether he’ll stop making himself miserable anything soon. Drinking himself into a queasy, burpy mess won’t help Hinata enjoy the holiday.

Sighing, Tsukishima takes another sip of his own eggnog and muffles a soft hiccup in his mouth. It _is_ pretty good, at least.


	2. fever/flu - viktor nikiforov

Christmas Eve, Yuuri decides, is supposed to be a time of fun.

His Christmas Eves are marked almost exclusively by good memories. His parents had always gone about the holidays with warmth and a simple cheer that had impressed upon their children from an early age that giving was better than receiving. The hot spring used to be so lively around Christmas time. Yuuri can still remember the parties his parents used to throw, falling asleep in his childhood bed with a comfortably full stomach and the knowledge that Santa was on his way.

Christmas… means a lot to him. That’s why he has nothing but empathy for Viktor right now.

Curled up in bed, the covers wrapped around his shaking form, Viktor looks pale and miserable. Yuuri has been hovering around his boyfriend for the better part of three hours now; he doesn’t dare leave his side. Mari had dragged him away once, to help with a tree that had fallen over; in that time Viktor had managed to get sick all over himself, and lacked the energy to clean himself up.

Yuuri runs his hand over Viktor’s burning forehead, brushing away silvery bangs that cling to his sweaty face. Viktor sighs, face screwing up in discomfort as he nestles further into the cool touch.

“Yuuri… I feel so dizzy,” he moans, eyes slipping shut. Yuuri, as he has discovered, is a very weak man when it comes to his boyfriend being vulnerable. Sighing, he gives Viktor what they both know he wants. Slipping into bed next to him, he wraps his arms around Viktor and pulls him into his chest.  


“There, there… don’t worry, Viktor. Just try to get some rest.”  


“’M sick on Christmas,” Viktor whimpers, burying his face in Yuuri’s shirt. The other man sighs, allowing his chin to rest on top of Viktor’s head.  


“It’s a twenty four hour bug. It’s been going around.” It’s true – Nishigori had come down with it just last week, followed by two out of three triplets. That’s probably where Viktor picked this up, come to think of it. “By tomorrow morning, I bet you’ll be feeling a lot better.”  


When Viktor raises his head to look at Yuuri, his face is flushed, but his eyes are fever bright. He looks almost near-tears, and it does things to Yuuri that it probably shouldn’t. “You promise?”

“Promise,” Yuuri swears, planting a soft kiss to Viktor’s forehead. He might get sick from this close proximity later, but that’s a reality he’s willing to live with. After all, Christmas is all about giving – and Yuuri doesn’t believe that anyone, especially Viktor, deserves to be miserable on the holiday.  



	3. drunk/vomiting - iwaizumi hajime

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighed into his clinging boyfriend’s ear, “you’re way too – oh my gosh.”  


“’M fine,” Iwaizumi muttered, currently locked in an intense staring contest on the other side of the room. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. Stay away from this guy, he’s real shifty looking. Keeps staring at you.”  


“Iwa-chan, that’s a plant.”  


Iwaizumi started, looking up at him with a baffled frown. He almost looked sober, were it not for his ruddy cheeks and the haziness in his usually sharp eyes. “What?”

Oikawa, biting back a laugh, nodded towards the bush sculpture Iwaizumi had been glaring at for the past ten minutes. It had been designed in the shape of Santa Claus, with a red hat on it’s head for emphasis. While Oikawa had found it a cute decoration, Iwaizumi had apparently felt his territory was being threatened.

Drunk Iwaizumi was like a dog, Oikawa decided – grumpy, protective, and inadvertently funny.

Embarrassed by his own mistake, Oikawa’s very drunk boyfriend turned back to the bar and swiped another shot glass from the table. He downed it in one, letting out a deep sigh, before turning back to Oikawa with a tiny smile on his face. “Fuck off. I love you. Bastard.”

“Yep,” Oikawa nodded, placing a hand on his boyfriend’s back. That’s my Iwa-chan. Come on, I think you’ve had enough. Let’s go home, okay? We can welcome the New Year in our own living room.”  


Iwaizumi was docile enough as he was led outside – though that may have had something to do with how he struggled to stay on his feet. The drunken man swayed from side to side violently, listing like a kite in the wind. Only Oikawa’s hand on his arm steadied him as they made their way out of the club towards their car.

Halways there Iwaizumi stopped, clamping a hand over his mouth as a sharp hiccup jolted his frame. Oikawa halted to, raising an eyebrow. Before he could do more than place a hand on his shoulder, though, a rolling burp suddenly burst past Iwaizumi’s lips.

“Iwa-chan? Hey,” Oikawa said, turning his boyfriend towards him. No sooner had he done this than Iwaizumi pitched forward, a sudden gush of watery sick spilling past his lips – and all over the front of Oikawa’s shirt.  


For a second, neither one of them moved. Iwaizumi had doubled over, still gagging towards the pavement. Meanwhile, Oikawa had gone stock-still, and was staring with wide eyed at his boyfriend.

“Okay,” he said in a thin, flat voice. “Home time. Now. Let’s go.”

Suddenly this night wasn’t fun at all anymore. The New Year couldn’t have gotten off to a better start.


	4. stuffing -- katsuki yuuri

Viktor Nikiforov can't cook to save his life.

Thankfully, this isn't the case for Yuuri, or else they would both starve to death and probably take Makkachin with them. It also isn't the case for Viktor's coach -- Yakov proves to have an alarming affinity for Christmas cookies, and gives a bundle of them out to every one of his students who will accept them.

"It's the only time he condones the eating of sweets," Viktor gushes, feeding yet another bell-shaped sugar cookie into Yuuri's mouth. "I think it's an ego thing, but I'm not complaining!"

"Viktor," Yuuri says around a mouthful of sweetness, "are you sure about this?"

It's not eating the cookies that he has a problem with. He has a massive sweet tooth on a _good_ day, so Viktor lovingly feeding him cookie after cookie is like a dream come true. Yuuri's sweatpants are straining at the waist, and his stomach feels fuller than it has in a long time -- full enough that he's amazed he can still keep opening his mouth for each new cookie Viktor holds up. (He has an inkling Viktor enjoys feeding him more than he lets on.)

It's the fact that he's eating all the cookies, when as far as he knows Viktor hasn't eaten one. It just seems a little selfish to Yuuri, and he feels bad as he swallows his mouthful down.

"You should have some too," he insists, muffling a burp into his fists. "They're for both of us."

Yuuri shifts, adjusting the waist of his sweatpants to make himself more comfortable. Viktor's eyes follow the movement, and Yuuri sees him swallow hard.

"I'm okay," he says. "I don't have much of a sweet tooth anyway."

Of course not -- watching Yuuri must be treat enough for Viktor.


	5. drunk/nausea -- jumin han

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> "Jumin Han gets drunk at a Christmas party. MC has to take him back to his apartment. He's burpy and sick and totally embarrassed. Thank you and Merry Christmas!!"

Jumin normally knows better than to overindulge, but this had been a special occasion -- the RFA Christmas party. You don't know all the details, but apparently it involved a drinking contest, which somehow the combined efforts of Seven and Zen managed to goad him into. Adding that to the foul mood he'd been in earlier today (Jaehee as hinted that he'd argued with his father) you are dismayed -- but not surprised -- by the state Jumin finds himself in now.

"Easy," you urge, helping him into the back of the limo. Driver Kim is studiously avoiding looking back to see the state of his boss; Jumin knows how to pick employees for their discretion. You make a mental note to thank Kim later, but right now your attention is occupied by Jumin -- who is swaying alarmingly in his seat.

"Jumin." You place a hand on his shoulder, and as if a switch has been flipped he suddenly slumps against you. Somehow, you guess he'd been waiting for the opportunity -- both to be close to you and to no longer have to hold himself up. Jumin usually drinks wine, not vodka -- and nothing close to as much as he'd consumed tonight. While he hasn't lost his composure, it's clear his hold on it is precarious.

"I apologize," he says, his words thick in his mouth -- the syllables are overenunciated, like he's trying to hard not to slur. "I've surpassed my limits... I ought to know better. You shouldn't have to take me -- _hicc!_ \-- home. Excuse me."

You chuckle softly, because you really don't mind. Spending time with Jumin, even like this, is better than returning to your lonely apartment. Especially on Christmas, when being lonely can be the worst thing in the world. (You can't help but wonder if Jumin feels lonely too, up in his isolated apartment.)

"You don't need to worry. I'm just making sure you get home safely."

"It's -- shameful," he says, following up his words with a low burp that rings in his closed mouth. His face ducks away from you, despite his weight still being slumped against your shoulder. You feel the urge to rub his back, but wonder how he'd react to such intimacy.

He doesn't have as much luck stifling the next burp. With the car moving, you suspect his stomach is being upset -- the route home features a few bumps and turns, not to mention traffic. While Driver Kim is excellent at what he does, Jumin struggles to maintain his composure.

"I apologize," he says, after accidentally belching against your shoulder. You can see the flush on his face in the dim light; it isn't from the alcohol. "This is rude of me -- _huUrp_. My stomach... mmm, 's churning. I'm afraid the alcohol's hitting me hard..."

He's starting to slur now, and one hand has shifted to his stomach. He palms himself unashamedly through his shirt, trying to soothe the roiling there. Your eyes are drawn to it, and before you can overthink it you place your own hand over Jumin's.

He seems bemused, but not alarmed. "You don't have to..." he mutters, before burping wetly again. This expulsion is followed by what might be a soft moan, although you can't be sure. Jumin Han _moaning_ is hard to reconcile in your head with the self-disciplined businessman.

"I want to," you reply, and it's true. At least for the ride home; maybe it wouldn't hurt to see Jumin safely upstairs, as well. It's rare to see Jumin lose his composure, after all; maybe it's even a Christmas miracle.


	6. flu - viktor nikiforov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said:  
> "Could you do Victor and Yuuri playing in the snow and Victor claiming that he won't get sick bc he grew up in Russia where it's cold af but he ends up getting rlly sick?"

Yuuri knows how to recognize a bad idea when he sees one, and setting an excited Viktor loose on a Hasetsu winter is definitely a bad idea.

It never gets as cold here as Viktor must be used to in St Petersburg, but it's still chilly. Yuuri would be more than happy to spend the day inside, places where _heating_ and _warmth_ are more than just wistful daydreams. Instead, Viktor has tugged them outside -- Yuuri bundled up like a human marshmallow, and Viktor in nothing more than a light coat and gloves -- to play in the snow.

"You're going to get sick," Yuuri chides, dodging Makkachin as he prances through snow piles. "You're not dressed warmly enough."

Viktor looks up at him and grins, the cold lending an endearing flush to his cheeks. Yuuri might not understand his boyfriend's motto of fashion over practicality, but he won't deny the well-fitted peacoat does Viktor favors. "I'll be fine, Yuuri," he says, a hint of laughter in his voice. "I have Russian blood, remember? I won't get sick from the cold.

Yuuri bites his lip and says nothing more -- nor does he get the chance to, because a well aimed snowball hits his face at that exact moment. With a squawk, he dives for a handful of retaliation, while a laughing Viktor ducks behind a tree.

The next day, Yuuri isn't surprised to wake up next to a human stove. Not for the first time, it occurs to him that Viktor is too independent for his own good -- taking the advice of others would help him avoid a lot of problems.

"You have a fever," he whispers against Viktor's skin as lips against his temple causes the sick boy to stir. Viktor's eyes flutter and he lets out a groan, curling in on himself.

"I don't feel so good," he says, and cuts off with a round of harsh coughing. Yuuri sighs, adjusting the pillow beneath Viktor's head. He has a clue that they won't be going outside again today, so staying in bed doesn't sound like the worst idea.


	7. vomiting - yuri plistesky

When Otabek imagined how this day would go, standing outside a Russian convenience store’s lone bathroom stall while his best (and only) friend heaved up his breakfast had not been considered.

Winter wreaked havoc on Yuri’s already delicate immune system. They had both been aware of the stomach bug making its rounds through Yuri’s home rink, and the concern that he’d come down with it had been there – but neither of them had been prepared.

Tentatively, he pushed the stall door half open. He retracted immediately at the sound of a half strangled scream, and a foot slamming the door closed again.

“Don’t come in!” Yuri hissed, and then broke off into another round of heaving.

Otabek waited, unimpressed, for the sound of liquid splashing into the toilet bowl. Only when Yuuri’s gags had subsided once more did he dare to speak. “Are you dead?”

It took him a minute, but finally Yuri answered back a hoarse negative. Sighing, Otabek pushed open the stall door again, and this time Yuri didn’t fight back. Hunched on the ground, long arms curled around his middle as he folded in on himself, Yuri made a pathetic scene. He did not meet Otabek’s eyes as a hand came to rest on his shoulder. Otabek could see the pallor on his face anyway, and the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re okay,” he said simply, giving Yuri a small pat on the shoulder. Reaching over, he flushed down the mess. Yuri scrubbed at his mouth with toilet paper, grimacing, before trying to rise to his feet. When his knees buckled under him, Otabek was there to catch him.

“Let’s take this slow,” he suggested. Yuri was too weak to do anything but nod.


	8. drunk - oikawa tooru

The last night of the year is one that Oikawa obviously is not going to remember. Ushijima half-wishes he had that luxury.

“Where’re you walking?” demands Oikawa. His mouth directly next to Ushijima’s ear, the full force of his loud tone (and tequila breath) is blasted straight against the sober man’s cheek. It takes all of Ushijima’s willpower not to grimace as he continues walking. Whether Oikawa can keep up or not is his own problem, but the drunk seems to be hanging from his neck with little effort.

“I am going to sit down. My shoulder is beginning to hurt.”

This is because he has the full dead weight of Oikawa hanging off of it. Whether this is realized by the drunken boy or not is up in the air, but Oikawa lets out a sharp bark of laughter and responds with “good!”

Sitting down does not make the situation better. Oikawa just does not shut up – about how he’s better than Ushijima, how he should have beat him in high school, could have beat him–

This rant is interpersed periodically with sharp hiccups, and half of it is slurred to the point of incoherency. Once, Oikawa belches into his ear, and Ushijima has to refrain from jumping off the couch.

By the time the clock switches to midnight, announcing the dawn of the next year, Oikawa is all but passed out at his side. Ushijima nudges him, but the drunk boy doesn’t stir. Sighing, Ushijima resigns himself to the fact that he’ll have to carry a passed out Oikawa Tooru back to his dorm tonight.

Oikawa greets the first day of the new year with a pounding headache, twenty-two text notifications on his phone, and the knowledge that a snapchat video of him drooling on Ushijima’s shoulder has made him semi-internet famous overnight.

He vows never to go to another New Years party again.


	9. stuffing - yuri plisetsky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Holiday themed kinkiness opens up so many doors..! Pretty pls, somebody from Yoi getting too into the holiday spirit and binging on a bunch of greasy hanukkah foods (jelly donuts especially~). Pain and suffering or tender loving care ensues"

“Where are the donuts?”

Mila’s stunned voice rings out from the next room, and Yuri – who had been very busy getting _rid_ of the donuts – hastily shoves the final jelly-filled treat into his mouth. The box in his lap is empty now, though it hadn’t been fifteen minutes ago. There were at least gen jelly donuts, lined up with care. Now, all that remains is sugary residue and Yuri’s deep satisfaction.

Mila bursts into the room, and her eyes widen when she spots Yuri with the box in his lap.

“You ate it all?” she demands, disbelief clouded with fury. _“All_ of the sufganiyot? That was an entire box!”

“Why’d you leave it on the counter, then?” Yuri shoots back, swallowing down a belch. In retrospect, stuffing all those sweet donuts down so fast may have been a terrible idea. He didn’t even get the chance to enjoy them, and now his stomach feels full to bursting. It’s an effort to even sit up to glare at Mila, but he manages, fueled by rage alone.

Mila scowls, and she steps forward to snatch the box from his grip. “These were for dinner tonight, you gluttonous ass! Now I’m going to have to make more in a hurry, and you’re going to have a stomach ache all night!”

“I won’t,” Yuri spits in reply – or starts to, before being cut off by a massive belch. It has him doubling in on himself, clutching his stomach. A groan slips past his lips unhindered as the first cramp of pain shoots through him. If he’d been expecting sympathy, he is mistaken – Mila just snorts at his discomfort.

“Serves you right.”

Yuri hisses a curse at her, then belches again. A bubble of grease bursts in his throat, and he shifts in discomfort. Suddenly he feels very heavy, and kind of gross, and it all has to do with the overbearing fullness in his stomach. He really overdid it.

“Maybe Viktor will be more sympathetic, if he finds you. Enjoy yourself!” Mila calls over her shoulder, breezing out of the room with the box. Left alone, Yuri stares down at him swollen stomach and wonders if he’s made a mistake.

At least it was a mistake that tasted _really_ good.


End file.
